


I Know Why

by historybudd



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historybudd/pseuds/historybudd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1945. Andrew Gold decides to join the Navy and his decision could very well change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, this idea came to me, and I could not resist, literally.  
> Plus it helps appease my desire for more RumBelle even though I have to wait till the Fall to have that happen. I might die during the summer.  
> Seriously though, the last few episodes of Season three and all the Rumbelleness!!! The Proposal! Her father's acceptance! THE WEDDING!!!! The moment we had all been waiting for. I can't wait to see Mr. and Mrs. Gold's home life now... seriously though.

Prologue

Andrew Lawrence Gold stared at the telegram that Mrs. Hatter had given him. He couldn’t even believe what he was seeing.

Jefferson was his best friend. He was a crazy, fun-loving young man who never failed to get Andrew to snicker. They had grown up together after Andrew and his father had moved to Storybrooke, Maine from Scotland. Jefferson had lived just down the street from him. They played baseball together. They had talked about girls together. This couldn’t have happened. Who would he talk to now? He had no one. He lived with his elderly spinster Aunt. His mother had died and his father had abandoned him. The only girl he thought he had loved had told him she thought he was a coward and ran off with a sailor that had come to town.

Jefferson had asked him to join with him. The American Navy represented Adventure and fun, everything that Jefferson adored. But Andrew had said no. He needed to take care of old Aunt Mildred. He couldn’t wait til Jeff came back.

And now Andrew was holding this telegram in his hands informing Jeff’s loved ones that he had died in battle on December 7, 1941 in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. He slowly handed the blasted telegram back to Jefferson’s mother and walked away toward the Navy recruitment center. He needed to do his pal one last favor before he let him go.


	2. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle French and Andrew gold exchange their first correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More rumbelle Love!  
> Also, go check out another fic I am working on called "I'll Be In Scotland" The updates for these two works will be interchangeable.

Belle Marie French was just finishing up with dinner when her father came home from work. “Hello, Belle, dear. How has your day been?”

           

“Productive. How was work, Papa?”

           

“It was alright. The floral business certainly isn’t going to make us rich, but we’ll never be poor either. It’s really just the same old, same old. I received a letter from your mother’s old friend Mildred Gold today. It seems her nephew just joined the Navy because of Pearl Harbor.”

           

“Oh my. What a sacrifice!”

           

“Yes, indeed. She asked if I would be willing to write to him, sure that he would like letters from others besides herself. I am not so sure that he would like a later from an old man, though. Why don’t you write to him? I’m sure that he would much rather receive letters from someone more his age, you know.”

           

Belle looked thoughtfully at her father. “I suppose I could. What harm could it possibly do anyway. I’ll start my first letter after we’ve eaten and the kitchen is cleaned.”

           

“That sounds wonderful, dear.”

 

~~~~

           

Belle hurried to finish up with the dishes and then went to her room to write the letter at her desk. Her father had given her the young man’s name and his address so she could properly write to him.

           

She took out her stationary and a pen and stared at her paper for a moment. Then she began to write:

            _Dear Mr. Gold,_

_You are most likely wondering who I am. Well, my name is Belle French. My mother was good friends with your Aunt Mildred, it seems. She asked my father if he could write to you, but he thought you might like a letter from someone more your age. Hence, I am writing to you._

_I am twenty-one years old. My father and I just moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania from Australia. My mother was from Maine, though, which is how she knew your aunt I suppose. Father said that Mildred still lived in Maine. Are you from Maine as well? Have you lived there your entire life?_

_Do you like to read? I do. I find that all the adventures I wish I could have can all be safely found within the pages of a long novel. I also like to read while listening to Glenn Miller’s records. I find I like his style the best, although I do enjoy Benny Goodman a great deal as well. Do you like either of those band leaders? Perhaps a different artist? There are so many, really, and they are all very talented._

_I hope you are well. I look forward to hearing from you._

_Sincerely,_

_Belle French_

 

~~~~

           

Andrew was laying on his bunk. He had to go on duty in an hour, and just wanted to rest as the ship rocked back and forth.

           

A knock sounded at his door and he groaned. “Come in.”

           

“There’s a letter for you, Gold.” His new friend Jerry said.

           

“Probably from Aunt Mildred, no doubt.” Andrew replied.

           

“Not unless your Aunt is going by the alias of Belle French, it isn’t.”

           

“Belle French? I don’t know any Belle French. Are you sure that letter is for me?”

           

“It’s addressed to A.L. Gold. So yes, it is for you.”

           

“Huh. Well, give it here.”

           

Jerry handed him the envelope and then left him alone. Andrew slowly opened the envelope and took out the letter. The handwriting was crisp, clear, and full of personality. He read it through quickly, and then read it again. It wasn’t long, but it was delightful, and it certainly solved the enigma of just who this Belle French was. He sat down immediately to write her back.

~~~~

           

A week after Belle had sent off the letter to Miss Mildred’s nephew, her father came home with a letter for her. “Belle, dear, it seems the young sailor has written you back.”

           

“Really?” Belle asked. She hadn’t been sure if Andrew Gold would respond to her letter at all, and to have received one from him so quickly was almost an honor. She couldn’t wait to read it.

           

“Yes, here you are. Is dinner almost ready?”

           

“Of course.” Belle took the letter from her father and then dished him up a bowl of the soup they were having for dinner.

           

After they finished eating, Belle ran off to her room to read her letter in peace.

           

“ _Dear Miss French,_

_Please call me Andrew._

_No, I am not originally from Maine. I am from Glasgow, Scotland. My father and I moved to Maine shortly after I turned twelve. I have lived with my Aunt Mildred since then taking care of her after my father left me with her. I am 24 years old, so I have lived in the States as long as I had lived in Scotland. I am told my accent is still rather thick, though. To be truthful I wouldn’t have it any other way._

_I do like to read. I find that I am fond of Dickens and Austen the most, though. Shakespeare also captivates me. I am glad I can talk to you about such things as books. The men on the ship aren’t very fond of reading, except one chap named Archie. He is fairly nice, probably the closest friend I have here, besides my other pal Jerry. Jerry was the one who brought me your letter. I suppose I’ll have to explain to him who you are, as when I received your letter I was quite confused as to who Miss Belle French was._

_I do like Glenn Miller, very much. His music relaxes me, and we sailors like to listen to him as much as we can. I am also fond of Goodman, and of course, Harry James. What that man can do with a trumpet is unbelievable. The same goes for Miller and his trombone and Goodman and his clarinet. Before I left for the Navy I liked to go and watch the dances that were held in town, but I never danced. I just couldn’t seem to find the right partner. I think that is very important. People have certain dance styles, and it is much easier when you are used to someone style, instead of baffling yourself with a new person’s style every dance. But maybe I am just being silly._

_Looking forward to your next letter, Miss French,_

_Andrew Gold_


End file.
